


Eye of the Storm

by magicofthepen



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, also a small mention of Leela/Narvin, ft. references to Erasure, set between Enemy Lines and Time War, with a dash of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:48:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22186594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicofthepen/pseuds/magicofthepen
Summary: In which the future is uncertain, but the present is worth it. Also, there's a picnic.
Relationships: Leela/Romana II
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Eye of the Storm

Romana’s mission to Quarborous III was nearly a disaster.

An interplanetary gang intent on terrorizing their local system illegally acquired time technology, tried to blunder into their own pasts, threw up all sorts of paradoxes — typical consequences of inexperienced time travel, only in this case the casualties threatened to be more catastrophic than usual. The situation had escalated too quickly for Romana to risk any of the more junior agents, and most of the senior field agents were still occupied with the painstaking cleanup of a nasty temporal quake around the Eleen asteroid belt. 

One day, perhaps, the universe will give her one crisis at a time to deal with. 

She had a rather loud argument with Narvin before taking one of their currently unoccupied field agents as backup (see, she can compromise) and going herself. He had insisted it was too risky, personally and politically, for her to leave Gallifrey, she had insisted that he was too involved with supervising the cleanup to go himself, she was plenty qualified, and besides it was less dangerous than half the things she’d done as President. 

Somehow, that last point didn’t seem to reassure him. 

And yes, Romana may have underestimated the gang’s mastery of the time technology, and yes, there may have been a high speed chase through the Vortex that probably violated most of the safety regulations for TARDIS flight, and yes, she and Agent Hayden did get too close to being erased from time for her liking, but if her report on the mission is going to be a little lacking in details, well, Narvin can hardly blame her for being efficient. 

Romana slips quietly into her office once she’s distributed the battered, leaking tech to the proper department. She ignores the backlog of reports queued up on her screens from the past day and a half and sinks into her chair. The echoes of a hundred twisted paradoxes are still driving a dull headache through her skull, and she closes her eyes, inhaling what feels like the first deep breaths she’s managed since yesterday afternoon. 

It’s less than five microspans before her office door slides open. Romana wouldn’t say she _jumps_ , but it’s not impossible that the adrenaline burning through her hasn’t quite faded. 

“Leela! I wasn’t expecting you. Especially not at this hour.” The first sun hasn’t even risen over the horizon. The CIA isn’t usually so busy at this point, but the technicians have been working overtime lately. 

“I heard that your TARDIS had returned to Gallifrey.” Leela speaks nonchalantly, but her rapid appearance in Romana’s office doesn’t quite match her casual attitude. 

“I haven’t been back long.” Romana rubs her eyes. “Who told you?”

Leela raises her eyebrows, the _who do you think?_ clearly visible on her face. 

Romana groans. “Tell me Narvin didn’t send you over here.”

Leela snorts. “He did not send me. He was going to speak to you himself, but I said that since I had nothing else to do at the moment, I could find out how your mission went.”

“I did send word that the situation was resolved, and the technology we retrieved is safely in the lab. Surely he can wait a little while longer for my full report.”

“He seemed worried. More than usual, I mean. Something about the recent readings from where your TARDIS traveled?” Leela’s voice is entirely unconcerned, her words only a matter-of-fact statement. 

“Ah. Yes. There may have been a slight — ” Romana clears her throat. “It doesn’t matter. The paradoxes have been sorted out now, any readings from the past few spans are nothing to worry about.”

Leela strides around to Romana’s side of her desk and hops up on it, fingertips drumming against the flat surface, a grin spreading across her face. “You found more trouble than you planned?”

“Only a bit. Don’t tell Narvin, he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“So when you say you are going to give him a full report...”

“A slightly edited report, let’s say. At least until both our crises have calmed down.” 

Leela only presses her lips together, as if trying not to laugh. “A bit of trouble sounds like fun.” 

Romana is the one to laugh then, at the absurdity of Leela’s statement, at the sparkle and wistfulness in her eyes at the thought of whatever adventure she imagines Romana experienced. 

“The remote cleanup work at the CIA isn’t quite exciting enough for you?” 

“It is all technical details. I cannot help with that.” Leela flaps a hand, as if a simple gesture can sum up the complex re-organization of timelines in a distant stretch of the galaxy. “And I do not understand much of what your agents are trying to do, but I know it sounds very boring.”

Romana refrains from pointing out that a thousand planets could vanish if they got it wrong, and instead slides away from the desk, turning her chair so she can face Leela properly. “So what _have_ you been up to while I’ve been away?”

Leela sighs, a low frustrated sound. “Narvin suggested I could help out with his reports if I had nothing else to do.”

“Oh, I’m sure that went well.”

“But then he agreed that I should go on that mission to — Katrexi, was it? To track down the rogue human time agent?” 

Romana raises her eyebrows. “You’re not technically supposed to know about that mission.”

“Both of you were speaking about it in my kitchen four days ago.”

“Ah. I gather you weren’t actually still asleep.”

Romana probably should keep better track of what “out of earshot” means when it comes to Leela, but honestly she doesn’t really care how much she overhears. Leela has one of the highest security classifications within the CIA (this had caused a minor argument with Livia and some of her more traditional advisors, but Romana wasn’t about to be told how to run her Agency). And more than that, she trusts Leela completely with the work she’s doing, trusts her instincts and her empathy and her inclination to point out the obvious.

Romana frowns. “But even if you know about the mission, the doctors haven’t cleared you for fieldwork yet.”

Leela crosses her legs, the movement sharp and annoyed. “They are delaying on purpose.”

“They are medical experts, Leela.”

“My head has felt fine for the past four weeks, I do not need a medical expert to tell me that.”

Romana rolls her eyes, but she can’t say she’s surprised by Leela’s stubborn desire to _do something_ that’s not office work, to be allowed to run offworld again. Her recovery from her head injury has left her even more restless than usual, and even though she’s been cleared to move freely about the planet, dangerous field missions on other worlds are still another story. 

“My point is that Narvin definitely did not agree to let you go to Katrexi.”

Leela uncrosses her legs and rocks back onto her hands with a sigh. “It was worth a try.”

Romana lets out a noise that’s somewhere between amused and indignant. “And even if I’d failed to remember that rather crucial detail about the status of your health, Narvin and I do talk to each other, you know.”

Leela mutters something under her breath, and Romana doesn’t need to hear it to guess it’s a rather unflattering remark about her early days as Coordinator, when a string of communication failures between her and Narvin and general stepping on each others’ toes had nearly caused a mission failure. She has been happy to move into the “pretending that never happened” phase and sees no reason to stop now. 

“Did you only come here to try to sneak onto a mission you’re not supposed to know about, because if so, I do have a rather unfortunate headache, and…”

“That is not the only reason I came here.” The nonchalance is still in Leela’s voice, but now a thread of what Romana can only describe as _mischievousness_ has crept in. 

“Leela.” Romana leans back in her chair, chin tilted to look her in the eye. “What’s going on?”

Leela moves without warning, sliding off the desk in one fluid motion so she’s in Romana’s lap, knees planted on either side of her waist, fingertips brushing slowly from Romana’s wrists up to her shoulders. 

Before Romana has quite recovered from the sudden dryness in her throat, Leela leans forward to whisper against her ear. “It is well past time that you took a break.”

“Leela!” Romana shoots a nervous glance towards the door. It is very much not locked, and her Deputy Coordinator at least has a habit of barging in unannounced. Her hands land on Leela’s waist, fully intending to push her away. But Leela’s warm body curls even more tightly around her, face nuzzled into the crook of her neck, and Romana suddenly feels quite incapable of moving. 

Romana clears her throat and tries to clear her head. This level of proximity is well beyond too intimate for the CIA Tower, and she can’t — But she also can’t ignore the treacherous soft delight curling through her, delight that Leela is holding her like this, touching her like this so easily. The two of them spent so _long_ dancing around each other — holding each other occasionally at night, fierce embraces after near-death experiences that always lingered too long — a trail of almost-not quite-maybes that she thought would never lead anywhere. It has been only a handful of weeks since Leela first kissed her, and slightly less time since Romana finally got over the tripping nerves in her stomach and kissed her back. 

“I have a surprise for you,” Leela murmurs against Romana’s ear, sending an involuntary cascade of shivers down her skin. 

“Oh?”

Leela pulls back to grin at her, a flash of white teeth. “There is a skimmer waiting on the edge of the city. And I know a place in the mountains where we can escape for a little while, once you have finished your report.”

Oh.

Romana tries to keep her smile steady, but she can’t help the complicated twist of emotions that rears up within her. What Leela is offering — the prospect of running away from the Capitol for the morning, forgetting checking-in on the quake clean-up, forgetting preparing for her meeting with the President this afternoon — it’s all too appealing. It’s far more time than the handful of stolen moments they’ve had together these past few weeks, and the sheer amount of _wanting_ that races through her at the thought is almost terrifying. 

She hasn’t felt that level of desire to be irresponsible since, well… a certain long ago vacation to a leisure planet springs to mind. 

And yet, all property destruction aside, a monitored trip to Davidia is very different from sneaking out in the early morning hours before Gallifrey’s suns have risen. And worse, sneaking back in during the broad light of day. Surely someone will spot them. Surely someone will have questions about what the Coordinator of the CIA and one of her agents were doing in the outer peaks of Mount Solace so soon after her return from Quarborous III. And what if something else goes wrong, while she’s gone? 

Romana swallows. “That’s...well…”

“I know you are not as fond of the outdoors, but I promise the skies outside the dome are beautiful today.” Leela’s voice is still playful. “And surely it is no great hardship to relax for the morning?”

“I — no, it’s not the mountains that’s the problem.” Romana’s stumbling over her own words now, unable to fully articulate the uncertainty that’s twisted up through her gut at Leela’s offer. It’s something quite similar to the way her stomach dropped when Leela slid on top of her — a sense that any warm, pleasant feelings stirring inside her are too dangerous to encourage, at least here and now. “It’s only... I really do have a lot of work to get back to — ”

Leela leans back, her eyes flicking critically over Romana’s face. Romana instinctively shifts away from the scrutiny. Leela doesn’t have the innate mental telepathy of Time Lords, but sometimes, from the way she is so frequently able to articulate Romana’s thoughts in a way Romana herself can’t even manage, it’s hard to remember that she can’t read minds.

“There is something else.” 

“There’s nothing else,” Romana says, a little too insistently. “Honestly, Leela, I’m just far too busy to take any time off this morning.”

“You have just stopped one disaster. And the CIA has managed without you in the past day, surely it can manage for a little while longer. Romana...”

Leela’s voice is soft and insistent in a way Romana finds difficult to resist. In this, at least, Leela deserves what honesty Romana can give. 

“Could you — ” Romana swallows, one hand gesturing rather vaguely at Leela’s current position and then the desk. Somehow, Leela catches her meaning and reluctantly clambers back onto her previous perch, eyes never leaving Romana’s face. 

Free of the all too distracting weight of Leela on top of her, Romana is able to collect her thoughts into something resembling an answer. 

“I’m not sure leaving the Capitol is the best idea,” she admits.

“Romana, I leave the Capitol often. The outside is not dangerous, especially not if I am there to protect you.”

She snorts. “I am somewhat capable of defending myself, even if it’s not in the same way that you would.”

“So what is wrong?”

Romana sighs, a sharp hiss of air that almost forms words but doesn’t quite manage it. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see that Leela’s arms are crossed, her prying gaze pinning Romana to her chair. 

Romana reaches out a hand and without question, Leela takes it. She squeezes Leela’s fingers, a hint of reassurance, an attempt to soften the explanation she’s not sure how to give.

“Leaving on a skimmer is not exactly...inconspicuous.” 

Romana sneaks a quick glance at Leela to find that the posture of her shoulders has gone stiff, the confused inquiry on her face fading away into a hardness. 

“I only meant that…”

“I know what you meant.” Leela pulls her hand away. “You do not want anyone in the Capitol to see us together.”

“Leela…”

“You never used to be so concerned about that.”

“Well, things were...different then.” It’s true, that Romana has generally cared little for the more traditional Time Lords’ disapproval of her friendship with an alien. And she’s been aware of the rumors that have circulated on and off for years, never gaining much traction, about the exact nature of their relationship. The gossip never seemed to matter much, not when there wasn’t anything of the sort going on between her and Leela. But now that things have changed between them, Romana’s no longer worried about other Time Lords getting the wrong idea and far more concerned about them getting the right one. 

“Leela.” Romana tries to take Leela’s hand again, but she slides further back on the desk, leaving Romana grasping at air. “It’s too risky now. No one is supposed to know that I, that we…”

She trails off, unable to pinpoint even the words to label the change that has occurred in their relationship. Leela’s friendship, her company, the affection and warmth between them, that was always a rare treasure on this world. To kiss her at last, to admit to a different kind of attraction, seems far less significant in comparison. 

But the shift between them was more than physical. It was an invitation to step further into each others’ lives, in the difficult times and the quiet ones. Romana wants Leela’s presence in her life, inside and outside of the turmoil of the CIA, wants the stolen smiles as they curl up under her covers the nights Leela stays over in her rooms, wants the warm feeling that sits behind her breastbone every time Leela sneaks her arms around Romana’s waist to distract her as she stays up late in her rooms composing a memo to her agents. 

Yet they both know too well the external forces at play, the reasons why the details of their relationship will always need to stay private. Romana is not the only person that Leela has chosen to entwine her life with in this way, but more importantly, Leela is technically her employee, even if they’ve never adhered to that professional boundary in practice. Romana knows more than one Cardinal who would be more than pleased to play up the politics of their relationship as a scandal. 

“This is how it has to be,” she concludes wearily. 

Leela doesn’t say anything at first, but when Romana tries again to take her hand, she lets her. 

“I know.” The words are wrinkled with a complicated mixture of annoyance and acceptance that Romana wishes she could smooth out. But it’s not possible — not here, not now, not in the positions they’ve chosen to live their lives in. Perhaps one day Romana’s close relationships will manage to be less complicated, but that doesn’t feel possible.

Romana squeezes her eyes shut briefly, her thumb brushing circles against Leela’s warm skin in something like an apology. 

“I’m sorry. I know you had this all planned — ” She frowns. “Actually, how did you have this planned? You didn’t know when I would be returning.”

“I had the skimmer ready for a while. If you did not come back until later, I would have used it myself.”

“Well, you might not be allowed to leave Gallifrey, but you’re still welcome to go outside the Citadel today if you wish.”

“I do not need your permission for that,” Leela says dryly. 

“I know. But please do try to avoid any natural disasters, I’d rather not have to file another incident report.” Romana lets a gently teasing tone slip into her voice, and Leela cracks a small smile.

“I suppose it will still be nice to be outside for the day. Maybe…” And then she shakes her head, all the possible conclusions to that single word twisting between them. Maybe soon they can find a proper place for Leela in the CIA that allows her to stretch her legs without stifling her. Maybe one day the moments between the two of them won’t feel so fleeting.

_Maybe._

As Leela slides off the desk and back out into the organized chaos of an office she does not quite fit in right now, Romana can’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach. 

She can’t fix all of Leela’s frustrations, not under the circumstances, but maybe there’s something she can do to help.

***

Leela is barely missed at the CIA Tower that day, at least as far as the agents’ workload is concerned. She can tell when she returns that there were not any tasks set aside for her to complete. 

While Leela hadn’t been thrilled at being roped into the CIA after Romana took the Coordinator position, she has come to enjoy having more excuses to travel to other worlds. Gallifrey will always be her tether, as long as the people she cares about most are there, but a change of scenery is always a relief. Watching the other field agents come and go, seeing Romana and Narvin struggle to occupy her with tasks suited to her talents, it has left her nearly as frustrated as the days she spent confined to her quarters in the immediate aftermath of her injury. 

The scenery outside the Citadel was as quietly peaceful as usual, but the solitary nature of her trip was still a thorn twisting into her side. While in theory Leela understands the many good reasons behind Romana’s reluctance to leave, in practice it’s hard not to feel an ache in her heart at the empty place beside her.

The next few days in the office pass mostly uneventfully. After catching Romana dozing off one evening, Narvin manages to successfully insist that she leave the office to catch up on the sleep she neglected during her field mission. Leela completes a few boring filing tasks in exchange for persuading Narvin away from an inventory report for a short while. 

Four days after the Quarborous mission, Romana is gone from her office when Leela stops by at the end of the day, and Leela assumes she has a meeting or a mission briefing. Certainly when Leela returns to her rooms, she does not expect to find that Romana has gotten there first, and is sitting cross-legged on a layer of several blankets in the middle of her living space, an open basket with an assortment of food peeking out in front of her.

Leela stares. Romana scrambles to her feet.

“You’re back.” Romana twists her hands, a gesture that betrays her nervousness, even as her voice seems confident. “I’m sorry for barging in like this, but if you’re not busy tonight, I thought... we might spend some time together?” 

Leela approaches, her footsteps soft against her rugs, noticing how Romana has pushed the sofa aside to make space for the blankets, how the food she can see in the basket smells real, not like the paste and pills too many Time Lords survive on, but it is not from Leela’s own cabinets.

“You made a picnic?” Leela’s voice raises in pitch, surprise and amusement in each word. _“Indoors?”_

Romana’s shoulders slump slightly. “I know it’s not the same as leaving the Capitol for the day — ”

But she’s cut off as Leela crosses the last few steps between them to catch Romana in a kiss, her palms pressed against the side of Romana’s face, fingers winding into her hair.

Startled, Romana stumbles backwards, and Leela’s hand instinctively slides to her lower back to catch her, pressing them closer together.

It is silly, a picnic indoors. It does not shake the restlessness from her bones, or the quiet incompleteness of knowing that the world will never know, can never know, how much Romana means to her. But it’s a compromise of sorts. It is a promise of time, more time than they’ve had. Leela does not know where Romana has managed to find the time in the day to build this moment, but she is not going to question this gift. 

Romana recovers quickly, arms wrapping around Leela’s waist, lips and tongue soft but insistent, all the sharpness she gives to the world melting into something heady and fierce and wanting and so uniquely hers, this stubborn Time Lord who has tangled herself up in Leela’s life for so long.

Leela pulls back to grin at her, noses still brushing. “It is unusual, but not unwelcome.”

Romana blinks at her, minorly dazed, and Leela’s smile grows smug. One of the joys of finally admitting their long-held tangle of mutual attraction is the many new ways that Leela can now fluster one of the most powerful Time Lords on Gallifrey. 

“I’m glad,” Romana says, a bit breathless, and Leela’s smile only widens.

Tugging Romana down with her, Leela settles down on the blankets neatly arranged on her floor. She cracks open the basket, hauling out a stack of meats and bread and fruits and arranging them haphazardly around them.

“Where did you get all of this?”

“You manage to get outside food all the time, you shouldn’t be so surprised.”

“I did not think you would know where to look.”

Romana scoffs, leaning back on her elbows as Leela snatches up a handful of small purple berries. “I am in charge of the greatest temporal intelligence agency in all of time and space. I think I can manage to track down a few menu items.”

There’s a long pause and then Romana clears her throat. “And Narvin may have helped a bit.”

Leela laughs, partially at the sheepish tone of Romana’s voice, and partially at the thought of how _that_ conversation could have possibly gone. 

“Pass me one of those blue fruits.” 

It’s sharp and tangy in her mouth, teeth biting through skin. Not the ripest she’s had, but that is less important than the way Romana has leaned against her shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

“You seem tired,” Leela says in between mouthfuls.

“I’m always tired,” Romana mutters. “I should be less tired now that everything’s settled down for a few days.” She opens her eyes, squinting around the room as if simply mentioning the recent calm will summon an emergency alarm into being. Leela sees all too well that Romana lives her life hurtling from one challenge to the next, a blazing force always striving to protect her world, to make it better. Leela might be swept up in a similar life, but she lived on Gallifrey for many years as a civilian, far less entangled with politics and wars and misuse of time technology. She has learned, over time, how to quiet her thoughts, how to return to that slower pace within herself, even when the world is racing around her. She is not sure Romana has ever learned how to find that peace.

But there is a glimpse of it now, as Romana trails her fingertips around Leela’s waist, the two of them reclining against a pair of cushions they’ve dragged down to prop against the sofa.

“You are always moving from one task to the next. You are not used to standing still.” Leela wipes a drop of juice from the corner of her mouth.

Romana tucks her chin on Leela’s shoulder, the breath from her quiet laugh tickling Leela’s neck. “Which one of us are we talking about now?”

Leela gives her a pointed look, but Romana doesn’t flinch away.

“If you would let me go to Katrexi — ”

“Oh no, that is not where we’re taking this conversation.”

“Romana. I feel fine!”

“How many times, Leela? It won’t be long before the doctors clear you for field missions again. You just need to —”

“Be patient?” Leela rolls her tongue over the words, cutting and annoyed. “If you were stuck like I am, unable to do anything interesting, would you _be patient_?”

Romana doesn’t say anything for a long moment. It would be very hard to argue that patience is her strong suit. Leela knows about the recurring arguments between Narvin and Romana about exactly how much time the CIA Coordinator should or should not be spending in the field. Even when she was president, Romana caused more than one stir by her unusually frequent trips off the planet, throwing herself into danger and uncertainty.

“Leela, I understand. I do. But I’m not going to change my mind on this.”

It irritates her, that Romana can take control over her movements in this way. But the tone in Romana’s voice isn’t the one she uses in the office, directing the comings and goings of her agents. It’s the one she uses with very few people in the universe, warm and affectionate. It’s difficult to stay irritated with Romana when she speaks with such softness, especially when she nudges her nose against Leela’s shoulder, her cool breath raising goosebumps on Leela’s skin.

They could keep arguing in circles all night, but with the familiar weight of Romana curled against her and several picnic items still left to unpack in front of them, Leela is willing to admit she’d rather not continue this fight either. Not that she intends on letting it go, but there are more immediate concerns. Like how Romana has just pressed a soft kiss to her bare shoulder, her hair sweeping forward to tickle Leela’s arm.

“Alright.” Leela turns to cup Romana’s face in her hand, tilting her chin up to lean their foreheads together. Neither of them move any closer, lingering in the quiet comfort of the touch and the quiet peace of this moment, here on the floor of Leela’s rooms.

Leela still treasures this unguarded way Romana looks at her sometimes, the strange soft vulnerability in her eyes when they are tangled together like this, close enough for their breath to loop between each other, close enough for their three heartbeats to echo each other, part of the same dance. Romana has never been cold and emotionless, despite what some on Gallifrey have thought. She fights, perhaps not in the same way Leela would, but she fights nonetheless. She burns — angry and protective, stubborn and relentless. To be the person Romana will lay down her arms with, to be the one who sees her nervous and still, the person who has seen all the ways she smiles, that is a trust that Leela always takes care to honor. It is a gift Leela is more than happy to return in kind. 

Romana pulls back eventually and plucks a berry from the pile in front of her, rolling it between her fingers. “Leela, I’m sorry. That I couldn’t go with you, the other day.”

Something tugs inside Leela’s heart, a warmth at Romana’s words, an ache at the reminder that it seems the weight of Gallifrey will always come between them, even for something as simple as a morning in the mountains. And above all, a surprise at the wistfulness in Romana’s voice. 

“Are you?” Leela says, and there is nothing accusatory in her voice but Romana startles anyways, hurt flashing briefly in her eyes. “I do not mean it as a judgement. But I know you, Romana. Your duty to Gallifrey means everything to you, and I understand that that is why the other Time Lords should not know the details of our relationship — ”

“One of the reasons why,” Romana says quietly, and Leela is struck with the recurring frustration that while she once lived over two decades in defiance of the scandal of her love, now, so many years later, she is unable to fully acknowledge how much both of the people she cares for mean to her. 

“But if we could do as we pleased, if it did not matter, then it would mean you are not in the position you are in now. Do you really wish that were true?”

The look that crosses Romana’s face is startlingly heartbreaking, a jumbled mixture of surprise and uncertainty and sadness that rushes by too quickly for Leela to fully understand. 

Leela doesn’t know what she expects Romana to say. But whatever Romana answers, it does not change her own feelings. She chose long ago to stay by Romana’s side, in whatever way that meant, and she is not unfamiliar with the ways Romana’s work can complicate her personal relationships. 

Leela is also familiar with the way Romana shapes words to her bidding, the way she can easily come up with a retort to a political opponent, or the right reassurance to persuade a potential ally that her vision of the future is worth fighting for. Romana is a skilled politician, her words quick and sure and not always genuine. 

But here, in this moment, it is a long time before she speaks. 

“I don’t know.” Romana’s voice is so small it is almost uncomfortable to hear. She opens her mouth again, perhaps trying to explain, but nothing else comes out. 

Leela nudges her shoulder against Romana’s. She does not need to know what Romana is thinking, but she senses that speaking whatever is on her mind, whatever she is struggling with, would be a good thing for both of them. 

“Have you ever thought about leaving politics? One day?” Leela prompts, her own curiosity clear in her voice. She never expected Romana to give that possibility serious consideration, but given the uncertainty in her eyes, maybe Leela has jumped too quickly to her own assumptions. 

“I —” Romana sighs, settling back against the cushion and tilting her head back so Leela can glimpse her wry smile. “It would be awfully boring, wouldn’t it?”

“For you, maybe,” Leela says. “You have never managed to stay away for long. Even when you were cast out of the Capitol after the civil war, you snuck back in.”

“Mmm.” Something flickers in Romana’s eyes, as if she’s remembering that long ago banishment to the ruins of her childhood home. The first time Leela set foot in the House of Heartshaven. “But as much as you complain about the CIA, wouldn’t you be bored too, away from all of this?”

“I did live on this planet for many years without getting involved in politics.”

Romana’s smile fades slightly. “Is that why you asked? Do _you_ want to leave this behind?”

“Not if you and Narvin are still here.” Leela’s answer is quick, sure. She has always known what bound her to Gallifrey, even if that has changed over the course of her life. “But I was not asking for my sake.” 

Leela presses a kiss to the side of Romana’s head before turning to look at her head on. These words are burning inside her, important and true, and Leela wants their eyes to meet when she says them. “Everything you do for Gallifrey, that is a part of who you are. If you did not care so much, so deeply, about your people and people so unlike you, you would not be the same person you are today. For as long as this work is a part of you, I would not ask you to give it up.” 

Romana’s eyes, clear blue, wide and the slightest bit watery, stare at her for a long time. 

“Sometimes I wish I could,” she whispers. 

Leela blinks, and Romana’s eyes widen even further, as if she’s surprised herself. She looks away, a stillness covering her face, masking whatever almost-revelation was written there.

“I… ” Romana swallows. 

“You do not have to explain — ”

“No, I need — ” Romana seems to remember her courage, that fierce conviction inside of her that pushes her to stumble forward, no matter the cost. She shifts on the blankets, straightening her shoulders, a measure of confidence returning bit by bit until the words are flooding out of her.

“When I was President, after I came back —” She does not need to say from where for Leela to know, even if Romana has never spoken much about that dark time in her life. “I was so _certain_ this was it for me. I would give all my lives to the service of Gallifrey and that would be that.” Romana shrugs, as if the idea of her bleeding herself dry for her planet is nothing, and something in Leela aches. But she knows how it feels, to see a future that is only cold and empty. She knows how it once felt.

“All those years ago, all everyone saw when they looked at me was the President. And I was so convinced that is all I would ever be.” 

Now she’s the one gripping Leela’s hands.

“Then I met you.” She smiles wryly. “And if that isn’t a cliché.” And here she swallows, jaw moving as if she is chewing the words before she speaks them. “I was so used to needing to be the President first, above anything, but you didn’t expect that of me. Didn’t want that of me, it seemed.” She trails off with a shake of her head, the words fading into a soft amazement in her eyes. “I couldn’t understand it then, but I do now. It was the first time in so long that I felt like…”

Romana is fighting with herself again, trying to find the words again. She sighs, long and slow. 

Leela squeezes Romana’s hand. “Like you were a person too?”

“It sounds silly, I suppose.”

“No. No, it does not.” 

Leela knew, of course, that even from the start their relationship was never quite professional. She knew that she had always considered Romana a friend first, before anything.

She had not realized Romana had known too, at least deep down, even as she tried to convince herself that she could not afford friendship. Leela had not realized truly how much that connection had meant, right from the start, and hearing Romana speak these words, even quietly, haltingly...Leela is nearly at a loss for words herself.

Romana sighs. “I don’t think I could ever be content with a quiet retirement. But I suppose I can’t help but _hope_ that there’s, oh I don’t know, more than this? More to life than one crisis after the next?”

She reaches up to cup Leela’s chin in her hand, her thumb brushing Leela’s cheek. “You asked me if I wished things were different. And I can’t give you an answer, Leela, not really. But with you, I...” She swallows, eyes flicking to her feet, a blush heating her cheeks. Her voice is a whisper. “You make me wish they could be.”

The confession carries such rare vulnerability, and Leela kisses her instinctively, her lips fierce and biting against Romana’s, every part of them suddenly pressed up against each other, Leela’s hands curled around her back and holding her so tightly, as if she might never let go. 

She draws back a hair, their lips still brushing, feeling Romana sigh against her and letting a smile slip across her face, a smile that loops between them until they are both alight with that same warmth. 

All the uncertainties of where this path is leading them suddenly seem to matter less. Maybe there is a time where they find that _more than this_ Romana spoke of, a time when they can live in a peace that is more permanent, without becoming too restless from sitting still. 

But that far off, faded possibility is less important than knowing that Romana wants to believe it is possible. For all her optimistic dreams for her world, Romana so rarely spares that optimism for her own future. 

As welcome as the food is, this shared hope in Romana’s eyes is even more of a gift. But perhaps both the surprise not-quite picnic and Romana’s quiet words are part of the same desire — a wish to build something together, even if for now it is only in rare still moments like this one, the calm before the next crisis crashes over them. 

Leela does not know who leans in first the next time, but she does know, as Romana’s fingers brush against her hips, her kisses slow and gentle, the spread of food around them quite forgotten, that this peace is enough for now.


End file.
